Awake, but Still Dreaming
by megpie
Summary: Chapter 5 up! "Many are the strange chances of the world, and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter." – Gandalf. Marion Young quite literally falls into Middle Earth. The question is, is it ready for her? PG-13 for languag
1. Once I know who I'm not, then I'll know ...

**Disclaimer:  If I owned any of these characters, I would definitely not be the poor college student that I am.  Oh, and I also can't write songs, so all the song lyrics I'm stealing from Alanis Morissette's "Precious Illusions" belong to her, too.  **

**A/N:  Decided to have some fun with the Lord of the Rings, since I love both the movie and the series.  R&R please!  ^_^**

**A/N:  (3/5/02) Okay my fellow fanfiction.net readers and visitors…I thought that this story was a good idea when I started it (just like millions of other storywriters before me), but I'm not sure if I want to continue with it.  Please, give me some direction, people!  I know this isn't like my Diaries, but I do enjoy writing longer stories.  Just…R&R so I can figure out whether I should lay this story to rest or not.**

~*~*~*~*~

            Sometimes, my dreams haunt me.  Every once in awhile, when I fall asleep, I become somebody else.  I look into a mirror and it's not my own features staring back at me, but a stranger's.  Whenever this happens, I'll panic and try to scramble away from the disconcerting (and frankly frightening) image, tripping and stumbling.  It doesn't matter how or at what cost, just as long as I get away.  Eventually, I'll fall.  When this happens, there's always a strong arm behind me.  No matter what, he always catches me.

* * *

            Marion Young jolted awake, the sensation of falling lingering on her skin.  For a second, she was completely disoriented.  Blinking, her eyes adjusted to the night to find that she was not surrounded by her covers or her bed, but grass and trees.  She sat up and rubbed her arms, hoping to rid herself of the goosebumps that had arisen.  Retracing her steps, she remembered; she had been relaxing in the forest by her house.  The last thing she recalled was lying on the grass and watching the clouds lazily drift above her.  Now it had to be at least 8, for the crescent moon was low but steadily rising over her head.  Her mother was going to kill her.

            Standing up, Marion stretched, wincing as various muscles made their discomfort known.  What had she been thinking, falling asleep like that in the middle of a forest?  A million different crimes - each one more terrible than the last - could have been committed against her while she slept: theft, kidnapping, rape, murder.  Sure, it was a small town, but crimes of that nature were not unknown there.  And what had she risked her life over?  A bit of sleep and a dream; not even a good dream at that.  Retracing her steps back through the tiny forest, images of her dream flashed in her mind.  It had been a bit different this time.  Instead of just walking aimlessly, she had been searching for something…no, someone.  

            That's right, while wandering through unfamiliar territory, she heard someone scream a name.  It wasn't even that she heard, but felt it inside of her.  That was when the crying started.  Not the sobbing that would accompany such grief that she knew the person was feeling, but the heart-wrenching quiet tears that had to be fought back.  The sound simply continued to echo in the back of her mind, driving her to search for the source.  The need to help this individual filled her, not because he (she was sure it was a he now) was crying, but because he was holding his tears back.  The action made her want to find him, wrap him in a hug, and assure him that it would all be alright.  Her need grew more and more frenzied and soon she began to run blindly, oblivious to the branches cutting her arms and face.  Then she tripped, landing right at the bank of a small brook.  While picking herself up, she noticed her reflection only by chance.  Forgetting the search, she staggered away from the stranger she saw there.  That was when she fell backwards and those strong arms were around her, supporting her.

            Shivering, Marion wrapped her own arms around herself.  The cold night and pervasive dark did nothing to lighten her mood.  Coming to a stop, Marion noticed that cutting off the path in front of her was a thick bramble of trees and branches.  Sighing, Marion awkwardly set to climbing over them.  When one foot was on the opposite side, she noticed that she must have been turned around somewhere in the dark.  Once over the road-block she found, not the short mass of trees signifying the end of the forest in front of her, but a sharply descending hill.  Annoyed, she turned herself around and began to climb back onto the bramble.  But when she put her weight on the pile, her foot stepped through the weaker branches.  Irritated, she tried to pull her foot back to no avail.  Setting her free foot down on sturdier ground, she yanked again to find herself thoroughly stuck.  Now grumbling at how horrible this night was shaping out to be, she hopped on one foot and pivoted to a near by branch.  When she had a firm hold on it, she tugged with varying degrees of strength until with a final, vicious heave, her foot broke free of its trap.  But she'd pulled too hard and lost her balance, somersaulting backwards down the hill.  What had seemed to be a sturdy branch broke with a resonating snap and Marion tumbled backwards, then sideways with increasing speed.  Closing her eyes to the spinning world, Marion tucked herself into a ball as best she could, feeling stones slash her arms and face.

            Then, she was airborne.  Terrified, Marion had enough time to think, 'Did the hill end in a cliff?  I'm going to die…' before she plunged into a deep river.  Shocked by the cold, Marion gasped involuntarily, water filling her mouth and trickling down her throat.  Opening her eyes, all she could see was a blur of water and streams of light as she slowly sunk to the bottom.  She tried frantically to thrash her arms and legs, but her clothes ballooned around her, making it impossible for her to swim back to the surface.  Her vision was beginning to ink out around the edges; her limbs were so very tired; she was very tired.  She was so tired that she stopped struggling, stopped fighting the water that was welcoming her into its home.  Suddenly, there was a tug around her neck.  Vaguely, she noticed the water fly in reverse.  

            With a great gasp, Marion sucked in as much air as she could manage.  Someone had grabbed her shirt around the collar and plucked her from the river, depositing her in a boat.  Lying where she had been placed, all she had the strength to do was cough up the water that had filled her lungs.  Weakly, she managed to gaze up at her savior to find a man towering over her.  He had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and…pointy ears?  That wasn't right…

            Averting her eyes, she coughed up some more water.  When she faced the man again, he had turned away from her and there were no pointy ears.  What had she learned in her life-guarding class?  That when water is inhaled, a person slips into a pleasant and dream-like state, inducing hallucinations?  Didn't Brad Pitt say something like that in Fight Club? 

            Resting her head on the bottom boat, Marion closed her eyes, but, even though she was exhausted, did not sleep.  The lack of oxygen made her thinking muddy and harder to follow, but she knew that the river she had just fallen into should not be there.  Throughout the eighteen years she'd lived in her house by the small forest, she had trekked over every inch of it.  Not only was there no river, but there wasn't even a creek, a brook, nor any other collection of water bigger than a puddle.  Certainly two acres of trees couldn't conceal a river of that size.  What was going on?  Perhaps she had knocked herself out when she'd fallen down the hill.  But, it all seemed so real.  The wood underneath her, the cling of soaked clothes on her body, her hair stringy and pasted to her neck, even the sound of water lapping against the side of the boat was all just too real to be a figment of her subconscious.  So what had happened?  How had she gotten there?

            Opening her eyes again, the scenery was swiftly shifting as the man who had saved her paddled upstream.  Weakly, she pushed herself into a sitting position.  As she did so, the collar of her shirt dipped dangerously low on her chest.

            "Christ," Marion swore under her breath, as she hugged the soaked material close to her, hoping that nothing else was showing.  When she had been dragged out of the water, her shirt must have been stretched out.  But as she investigated, it wasn't just her collar; the hem was at her knees and what used to be short sleeves were now at three-quarter length.  Her shorts were baggy around her waist.  _Everything couldn't have been stretched out when all she had been pulled out by was her shirt.  While she had been thinking, the boat bumped against the bank.  _

            To her right, was a city, but all the houses were balanced on the branches of enormous trees, staircases circling around the trunks connecting them to the ground.  All the structures were bathed in incandescent light, giving it a fairy-tale like feel.  Faintly, she could hear chorused voices singing slowly and beautifully a lament, the words indiscernible.  As she soaked in the new surroundings, someone on the shore came to investigate.  

            Marion's savior leapt out of the boat to confront the newcomer.  A few words were exchanged in a different language and the newcomer threw her a sidelong glance.  Studying him, he also had long blonde hair and blue eyes, but half of his hair was pulled back to prominently display his pointed ears.  Shaking her head to clear it of the hallucination, she sprayed water droplets in a small circle around her.  

            Around her, a puddle had formed from all the water soaked up in her clothes and hair by the river.  A drip rippled the small collection of water while Marion focused on it.  All the strangeness around her was not feeling real again.  Arms grabbed her underneath the arms and dragged her roughly out of the boat as she tried to keep inside her grossly oversized clothes.  Her eyes fixed on her reflection in the water, stomach churning and knees weakening, she could not rip her gaze from what she saw.  Instead of wet, stringy straight black hair, dripping curls were drying around her face.  Poking out of her new hairstyle were pointed ears.  Slowly it registered that more people had surrounded her and that someone was talking to her.  Forcibly, a hand grabbed her chin and jerked her head to face him.  He was comparably larger and wore a menacing frown.

            "Who are you to trespass on the lands of Lothlorien?"  He growled dangerously.

            Hazily, she realized that he was yelling at her to answer.  Marion looked up at the pointed-ears man slowly, but then a blackness rushed up to meet her.


	2. But I know I won't keep playing the vict...

Disclaimer:  Once again, I don't own anything and am not, by any means, hiding a cute, adorable little hobbit under my bed.  

            Marion awoke on a cold floor, a dull ache throbbing at her temples.  Pushing herself into a sitting position, she observed her surroundings.  Her soaked and oversized clothes had been replaced with a well fitted tunic and pants.  With a quick reassuring sweep, her necklace was still around her neck, her ring was still on her finger, but her watch and bracelet were gone.  That didn't bother her as much.  Only the ring and necklace had any sentimental value – the necklace a silver Celtic knot given to her by her grandmother and the ring a present from her parents the year before.  In one corner of her room was a plate of food and a bowl of water. The room she was in was a large and made of what seemed to be polished marble.  The ceilings were high and there was a window a bit over her head.  Running over to the door, she tried the knob (which was also above her) to find it locked.  Sitting once again on the floor, Marion put her head in her hands.

            What was going on?  

            "_Who are you to trespass on the lands of Lothlorien?" The man with pointed ears had asked.  Where had she heard that name before?  Well, it didn't matter.  She had to find a way out of there.  The inhabitants of the city did not seem pleased with her arrival.  In fact, they had been downright threatening.  And now she was locked in a room, which she could only assume was part of a prison._

            But, who had ever heard of a prison made of marble?  Then again, who had ever heard of an entire city filled with people who had pointy ears?  Or entire rivers and cities appearing out of nowhere?

            "Lothlorien," Marion spoke the name aloud, hoping it would jog her memory.  The familiarity was so frustratingly close.  "Lothlorien!"  Marion exclaimed, picking her head up.  "That Elven city in Lord of the Rings!"  At that, she paled.  The Lord of the Rings series?  But…that was just a book.  Not even one that she had read all the way through.  She had always meant to finish it, but the farthest she had reached was the end of the Fellowship of the Rings.  And now she was neck deep in it.  Edging over to the food and water, she gingerly picked up what looked to be some sort of cake.  After biting apprehensively, she quickly devoured it, feeling her hunger for the first time.  She approached the bowl of water almost fearfully.  The reflection that would greet her would not be her own.  

            All of her dreams – nightmares, more like – had come true.  She was in a stranger's body.  The only part of her that reminded her of herself was perhaps her dark brown eyes.  Everything else had changed.  Steeling her courage, she leaned over the bowl and simply stared at the odd likeness staring back at her.  After awhile, the reflection was not as disturbing to her; if she looked deep into her eyes, she found herself again.  She was still herself, simply transformed a bit.  Calmer, she drank deep, quenching the dry tickle at the back of her throat.

            So, if this was indeed Lothlorien, a city full of elves, that would explain the pointed ears.  But what would that make her?  Definitely not human…not a dwarf, thank God, she wasn't sure if she would have been able to live with that, the pointy ears made her want to say she was an elf, but they were all too tall.  Feeling idle, Marion stood up to pace.  Glancing down, she noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes and that her feet were hairy.  Hairy feet…curly hair…pointed ears…everything above her…Christ Almighty, she was a hobbit.  

            It made sense – if anything made sense anymore.  Her clothes had been made for a human, which would definitely not fit someone who was three-some feet tall.  Her necklace was still on because though she'd shrunken, it still didn't fit over her head.  The bracelet and watch must have slipped off her smaller wrists.  Why her ring was still on puzzled her, but she shrugged it off.  

            Now it was time for an escape.  Another try at the door yielded no varying results.  The only other way out was through the window above her.  Though it would be difficult to reach with marble walls, it wouldn't be impossible.  The ledge was thin enough that if she grabbed onto it, she could hoist herself onto the windowsill and then onto the ground.  With her back against the door, she ran as fast as she could and launched herself at the window.  The first few times she missed completely.  The next few she either missed or her fingers couldn't find purchase on the slippery rock when she reached it.  Finally, she judged correctly and with a struggle, pulled herself up through the window.  

            A quick glance down threw her heart into her throat.  That's right…Lothlorien was a city in the trees.  Therefore, her room was high above the ground.  Very, very high above the ground.  It had to be at least five stories up.  Thankful that she had learned how to climb trees at the ripe age of seven, she started the terrifying task of descending the abnormally tall trees.

* * *

            Even in the beautiful city of Lothlorien, Pippin could not sleep.  That lament the elves had composed for Gandalf was still being sung and it slashed deep into his heart.  Even if he couldn't understand what was being said, the tone was enough to fill him with sadness.  The grief of losing Gandalf was like shards of glass lodged in his chest.  Resting his back against one of the trees, he sighed.  Everyone was asleep except for Boromir and Aragorn, who were discussing pressing matters again.  He glanced at Frodo, curled up on the springy grass.  Poor Frodo was taking the loss so much harder than anyone else in the group.  The poor hobbit hadn't even let himself cry since the Mines of Moria. 

            Any further pity was cut off by a creature dropping on top of him.  Crying out in alarm, Pippin got a mouth full of grass, a strange weight on his back.  

            "Shit…Ooouch!"  The creature moaned before dashing off.  Picking his head up, he just caught the figure of a female hobbit dash away and disappear through the trees.  Blinking his eyes, then rubbing them, he stood up shakily and quickly set off to find Aragorn.

* * *

            It was a much tougher descent then Marion would have thought.  Multiple times it was only by her nails that she managed to stay on the trunk.  By the time she was almost at the ground, her hands were bloody from the bark cutting her hands and the underneath her fingernails.  A few feet from the ground, she slipped and couldn't catch herself with, clenching her mouth shut, so as to not attract attention, she waited for the impact.

            Though she fell hard, it didn't hurt as much as she thought it would.  She didn't think grass was that soft.  Then she heard the cry of alarm.  

            "Shit…Ooouch!"  Escaped involuntarily.  Picking herself up, she dashed away without looking back, hoping that she could outrun whoever she'd fallen on.

            Once through the trees, she realized that she had no idea how to get back to river she had sailed in on.  And after that, she had no idea how to get back to that hill she had fallen into this world from.  She no idea, in fact, what she was doing at all.  So it was with that in mind that she heard the sound of a large river nearby.  Following her ears, the sound came closer.  Behind her, she heard someone shouting in a different language.  A quick glance behind her confirmed that elves were now chasing her. But she could see the river ahead, was at its bank and now flying down the bank.

            Then she remembered that elves had longer legs and more in-shape than she was as an elf quickly gained on her.  Cutting more to the side, Marion's bare feet were now slapping against slimy stones, the water of the river licking dangerously close to her.  Slipping, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before they caught her and locked her away again.  Picking herself as fast as she could, the lead elf was right behind her.

            An idea struck her.  She knew that they were fast on land, but what about in water?  

            'Between the choice of two evils, chose the one you haven't tried before,' Marion thought before she plunged into the cold water again.  It was much easier for her to swim with clothes that actually fit and she had the current working for her, pulling her further downstream.  But, unfortunately, elves were just as quick in water and arms were around her, pulling her back towards the bank no matter how hard she fought.  Dripping and screaming, she was yanked from the water and then back to the city of Lothlorien.

* * *

            Though it took him a little while, Pippin finally found his two friends not far from the actual camp.  "Strider!"  He called as he came up behind the sitting human.  In that position, Pippin was actually taller than Isildur's heir.  

            "What are you doing awake, little one?  You should be snoring," Boromir smiled.

            "I…I saw another hobbit," Pippin blurted out.

            "There are three more of you," Boromir replied.  "I should think you would.  Those are the only other Halflings that are in Lothlorien."

            "This is a hidden elf city."  Aragorn nodded.  "Even the Fellowship had troubles gaining passage here."

            "I'm not seeing things.  A female hobbit fell out of a tree on top of me and then ran away!"  Pippin argued. 

            Boromir shot Aragorn a concerned look before answering, "Perhaps you dreamed it."

            "LET ME GO YOU POINTY-EARED GIT!"  A shriek pierced the forest.  All three companions started at the sudden echoing insult.  More obscene insults ricocheted between the tree trunks and soon three elves came into sight, two soaked and dragging along a dripping, feisty hobbit.  Though obviously no match for three elves, the young female was twisting one way and another and dragging her feet into the grass.  Already there was a gash on her forehead that was dripping a bit of blood and her wrists were red from fighting.  Scabs on her legs, arms, and face told of cuts freshly healed.  Finally, the two picked the offending hobbit up to make the trek faster.  Once that happened, the insults stopped only to be replaced by biting and kicking.

            "LET!  ME! GO!!"  She screamed when that didn't work.

            Behind Pippin, Aragorn, and Boromir, the rest of the Fellowship slowly gathered, awed at the sight.

            "Mr. Frodo," Sam gasped.  "Another hobbit!"

            "I see, Sam," he said.  "But what is she doing in the middle of Lothlorien?"

            "I've never seen a hobbit so full of anger before," Merry added.  "Doesn't seem like a proper lady, now does she?"

            "Must be related to the Sackville-Bagginses," Sam murmured.

            Legolas darted forward and hailed the other elves in his own language.  There was a short exchange between the four of them with the girl still fruitlessly trying to escape.  After the few words, Legolas returned to his friends and the others continued on.

            "It seems that Lady Galadriel has need to speak with her, though none knew why," he reported.

            "Here!"  Frodo cried.  "They already hurt her!  We can't let them just whisk her away against her will like that!"  With the other three hobbits at his side, they charged towards the elves.

            "Put her down!"  Merry commanded.  "You're hurting her!"

            The elf not carrying the female halted the group.  "She is to go to Lady Galadriel.  Her wounds were obtained while she tried to escape."

            "Help me!"  She pleaded.

            "She obviously doesn't want to go with you," Pippin replied.

            "Put her down."  Frodo's eyes narrowed at the elves.  With a thud, the young hobbit dropped to the ground.

            "OW!"  She cried.  Recovering, she quickly tried to make a dash back to the river, but an elf grabbed her by her shirt.  "You stupid bint!" 

            From behind Frodo, Aragorn stepped around him and pulled the lead elf aside, the young hobbit being dragged along with them.  After a quick, heated discussion, Aragorn took a firm hold of the girl's shoulders.

            "You will be released on the terms that you will not run away again," the Fellowship heard him whisper.  Frodo moved closer to the pair, almost right by the girl's side.

            "What right do you have to hold me here?"  The hobbit glared at him, ignoring Frodo's movement.

            "None.  But what right have you to leave?"

            "I shouldn't be here," she answered angrily.

            "You are wrong," Galadriel replied, nearly floating across the grass to the small group.  "You should be here."  All present except for the young girl immediately quieted and turned toward the Elven Queen.  She continued to fight and managed to break free from Aragorn's grasp.  Before she could run away, Galadriel put a hand on her head.  The contact made the hobbit freeze.  "Shh, come with me."

            Regaining her composure, the girl shook her head to rid herself of Galadriel's touch.  "And why should I?  Who the hell are you, lady?  Why the hell am I here?"

            "I am Lady Galadriel and you are among the Fellowship of the Ring."

            At that, the girl wobbled and took a step backwards to balance herself.  Frodo made to catch the girl, should she fall.  "I think I'm going to faint again…"

            "Come with me for your answers."


	3. This Ring will help me yet

Disclaimer:  Okay, if you've made it this far, by now you realize that I don't own anything.  Let's assume that nothing has changed, shall we?  *grin*

            As far down as Galadriel's Mirror, Marion followed Galadriel silently, lost in thought.  

            _"I am Lady Galadriel and you are among the Fellowship of the Ring."_

            The Fellowship of the Ring.  The Fellowship of the Ring??  She was actually in the book??    Not just the world, but the book itself?  That was just too much.  How was that even possible?  

            Galadriel stopped in front of the pedestal that held her bowl.  Clear, fresh water was pooled in it, eerily still.   Staring into the water for a second, she turned around so suddenly that Marion almost jumped back.

            "You say that you should not be here," she began.

            There was a pause while Marion recovered.  "That's right," she answered.  Then, with more indignation, "This is just a book!"

"How can deny that this is real when you are standing in front of me, in the city of Lothlorien?"

"Because I read this.  I read all about it.  A guy named J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a book called the Lord of the Rings in a category named fantasy.  Fantasy means that it does not exist, could not exist, and never would exist." 

"But it does," Galadriel's soothing voice raised for a second. "There are many overlapping worlds.  It is not wise to simply dismiss ones other than your own."  Before Marion could defend herself, Galadriel knelt down on the spongy grass so that she was only a little taller than Marion and outstretched her left hand to her, calm once again. "Your hand, please?"  

Before she obeyed, Marion threw Galadriel a suspicious look.  "Why?"  Despite all of Galadriel's serenity and beauty, Marion was still wary of the Elven Queen.  Galadriel only continued her reassuring smile until Marion did as she had asked.  Tentatively, she put her right hand in Galadriel's left.  She didn't understand how this explained anything.  All that was there was her ring; two bands of silver that twisted around each other in a never ending circle.  In the faint light of Lothlorien, it seemed to glow and sparkle. "It's so strange that that's still on," she indicated the ring.  "I should have lost it."

"It would be impossible for you to do so."

            "Excuse me?"  Startled, Marion only stared at Galadriel.  Impossible to lose a ring?  Tell that to her parents!  She was constantly losing jewelry from wandering around in the forest, accidentally leaving it somewhere, or dropping it behind that space between the dresser and the wall which spelled imminent death for jewelry.  A simple ring shouldn't have stood a chance against her.

            "You wear a magic ring upon your finger.  It would only leave you in death."  Only in death?  Woah…that was a little heavy.  When dropped into an unfamiliar and possibly dangerous situation, death was the last word she wanted to hear.  Then the words sunk in.  A magic ring.  Not only was there magic that could transport her into the Lord of the Rings, but some of that magic was contained in a trinket?  A trinket _she was wearing?_

            "A magic ring?  _I'm wearing a magic ring?"  Snatching back her hand, Marion thoughtfully examined the ring on her finger again.  It was such a simple thing; only two bands of twisted silver.  'You would think that if it was going to be magic, it might as well be something more elaborate, too,' she mused._

            "Yes," Galadriel commanded Marion's attention back from the ring by standing up to her full height.  "While it is by no means a ring of power, it does hold magic.  You see, when the One Ring was uncovered in Gollum's cave by Bilbo, my mirror showed me many different layers of what could be.  In all of these futures, Frodo took the responsibility upon himself to destroy the Ring, but the way he did so varied significantly.  Frodo set off alone, with Samwise, Peregrin, and Meriadoc, without a Fellowship, with a Fellowship.  But, in many of these, he was alone and could not bear the burden – he fell and Sauron recovered the ring.  In the likelihood of this event, I cast a ring."

            "My ring."

            "Your ring," Galadriel confirmed.  "The knowledge of how to make the rings of power was lost many years ago, but it was not impossible to mold a ring to a singular will.  Yours was cast with a simple desire so great that it became possible for greater things to occur through it."

"A simple desire that makes greater things happen?  Like what?"

"The magic within it would bind the wearer to the ringbearer.  In a time when the bearer, Frodo, felt extreme and almost unbearable sadness, my ring would call a companion to him.  The simple desire was to keep Frodo protected."

            "Wait…are you trying to tell me that _I'm the one who's supposed to be Frodo's companion??  __I'm supposed to protect him?"  Marion blanched.  Frodo's companion through Mordor?  She shook her head, denying the possibility.  "But…there __is a Fellowship of the Ring, and Frodo is already being accompanied by friends.  You don't need me!  What am I doing here?"_

            "I was just informed of something that I could never have foreseen came to pass."  With a pause, Galadriel turned sideways, placing a hand on the rim of her mirror.  For a second, she seemed to be filled with grief.  

            Using the pause to think, Marion went over her meager knowledge of what she had read.  What had happened right before Lothlorien?  "Gandalf fell in the Mines of Moria, making Frodo feel extreme and almost unbearable sadness," she recalled.  She frowned while Galadriel regained her calm composure and turned back to Marion.  "This is a loophole that I could drive a four by four through.  Why didn't you just make the ring call someone here if he set off alone?"

            "Because the ring is still a simple object.  Even though capable of bringing about complex events, it can only respond to the emotions of the ringbearer and to a smaller extent, the wearer.  It was assumed that setting off alone would make the ringbearer feel great sorrow."

            "So this thing can send me into a different world, turn me into a hobbit, but it can't tell something mundane as company?"  When no answer came, Marion asked instead, "But why am I a hobbit?  Why do _I have this ring and not someone on Middle Earth?"_

            "It was sent to a different world because there were none in this world who could wear it.  Men are too easily corrupted by the Ring.  Elves are slowly fading from this world.  Dwarves are too taken with their own wealth and hide in the mountains."

            "Well, I'm of the race of man," Marion pointed out.

            "Yes, but the Ring only corrupts those who want to wield its power. You, on the other hand, have none of this desire; you only want to go home.  It holds nothing over you."

            "So you picked my world and me because I wouldn't try to take the ring from Frodo."

            "Not exactly you.  I chose your world, but the ring responds to emotions.  Of the wearer, it was to bind itself to one with a kind heart and courage.  I am sure that many on your world would have fulfilled that requirement, but it came upon you.  As for being a hobbit, the ring decided to put you in a form Frodo would be more likely to identify with."

            Nervously, Marion ran a hand through her still wet hair.  She was on Middle Earth, in the Lord of the Rings book, talking to a mythical being, as a mythical being herself.  Not only that, but this mythical being wanted her to accompany fictional characters on a made-up quest because she screwed up.  Were mythical beings allowed to screw up?  This was just too incomprehensible.  Galadriel had gotten one thing right, all she wanted was to go home.  She wanted to be laughing with her friends or writing in her stories.  Just simply being at home would have been preferable to what was happening.  Instead she was in a strange body that vaguely had familiar features, but was not her.  Despite what Galadriel said, this ring was not just a simple object if it could transform her into a completely different being.

            "Why can't I just go home?"  Marion threw her eyes to the ground.  What good was she doing there in the middle of an unknown world?  She was definitely not needed in the Fellowship.  

            "You cannot leave while you wear the ring; it is what ties you to this plane of existence."  Before Marion could tug the ring off, Galadriel continued, "And you will not be able to remove it until the One Ring is destroyed.  That part of the enchantment was necessary so that the companion would not simply leave Frodo's side when danger set upon them."

"Well, let's see," Marion started bitterly, "So far this ring rips a person from their home without cause, binds them to a stranger, turns them into a hobbit, won't let them return to their home until they put their life in danger…what else does this thing do?  Cause cancer?"  Frowning, Galadriel could think of no way to continue.  Matching her expression, Marion shook her head.  "I don't even understand why I'm here.  Tolkien died before I was even born.  If he heard about the finished Quest of the Fellowship of the Ring when he was alive, I should have come to a time much farther in the future than now.  I mean, this simply – in any and all scientific terms known to man – just can't exist." 

"Though it is not common for people of your world to slip into ours, it has been known to happen.  This universe is scattered with overlapping places and times.  The rifts between worlds are very temperamental; it can throw a person into the past, present, or future of anyplace.  This Tolkien of yours must have been cast into the future of Middle Earth, when the quest had already taken place.  That has happened to many.  Some from your past have happened upon our future.  Many from your future have come into our past.  Your ring was designed to make sure no matter what time or place the companion was, when he or she fell through a rift of the ring's making, it would transport them to this time and wherever the ringbearer was."

"That's impossible.  If that was true, someone other than Tolkien would have said something about it.  There would have been at least a story in the tabloid somewhere: Man falls into Middle Earth.  Woman claims to have been in Tolkien's Middle Earth."

"I doubt that the people who went back would have been very reliable sources."

"Why is that?"  Marion asked skeptically.

"Everyone who leaves Middle Earth go back to their world either mad or poets."  Blinking in surprise, Marion fell silent for a minute, trying to let that sink in.  Not only was she unlucky enough to have slipped through one of these 'rifts' in the universe, if she went home she would be certifiably insane.  If she wanted to keep her sanity, she could never go home.  She was stuck in a world ripped apart by war for the rest of her life (a long one, if what Tolkien said about hobbit's life spans were true); what had she done to deserve that? 

"All hope is not lost," Galadriel knelt down once again to reassure Marion.  "It is always possible for you to go home a poet."  That's right, it was a fifty-fifty chance.  She could go home a poet instead of mad.  In fact, she somewhat looked forward to that; she liked to write, but all of her poetry was horrible. 

Shaking her head to rid the images of herself in a stereotypical black outfit complete with black beret and then of herself in a white room, arms tied in a straight jacket, Marion said, "Look, even if I wanted to go on this quest, I'd be of no use: I can't use a sword, I can't use a bow and arrow, I can't really fight at all.  If you ask me, what Frodo really needs is someone who can kick ass, which I can't.  Right now he has people who can bash a monster's head in with a single look.  I'd just be a burden."

            "You were meant for more of an emotional friend that he could confide his fears and doubts in.  Someone who he could share his experience with.  Frodo has enough courage to overcome many physical challenges, but it is those fears that would consume and destroy him."

            "He's got Sam, Pippin, and Merry, who he'd trust a lot sooner than some newcomer, hobbit get-up or not."

            "Perhaps, but you are also female."

            "You are _not suggesting what I think you are."_

            "Not wholly.  As you said, you have no real ability to defend yourself.  On such a dangerous quest, he would feel the need to protect you.  That would not only keep him going, but also bring you closer.  This instinct is already taking root.  And you, can you tell me that you have no desire to help him?"

            That wasn't true, Marion wanted to say.  She did want to help.  Her strange and disturbing dreams were suddenly a reality.  She now knew it was Frodo who had been holding back those tears and all she wanted to do was to make his grief subside.  But, she wouldn't be of any use to the Fellowship.  Without any skills, she was likely to get killed, even.  

 "It's not that I don't want to help…but I can't," Marion reluctantly replied.  With a swift motion, Galadriel grabbed Marion by the wrist, lifted her up and plunged her right hand into the water of her mirror.  Marion cried out at the sudden sharp and almost unbearable pain. 

"Stop!"  She heard a voice call out behind her.  

The pain was suddenly gone, but was replaced by a million different new sensations.  A rage of emotions whirled in the back of her mind.  After a moment, when the rush subsided and the slow ache in her hand began to dull away, Marion could identify the emotions not as her own, but as someone else's.  Frodo's, she reasoned.  

Hands were on her shoulders and when she looked up, her eyes met big blue ones.  

"Frodo, you should not have followed us here," Galadriel scolded.  But she was smiling.


	4. As will you, knight in shining armor

**A/N: This one's a bit longer than the rest.  Sorry if it seems like it's taking so long to actually get right into the action, but we'll get there soon enough, I promise!  **

            For a second, Marion was merely transfixed by Frodo's blue eyes.  While he was so close, the emotions stopped swirling in the back of her mind and focused on a singular feeling.  At the moment, he was bent over in front of her, hands on her shoulders, after a little while of that, he helped her to her feet.

            "While you're here, Frodo, you can help Sárelle.  Follow me," Galadriel continued to smile.  She then glided through the trees and out of sight.  The two hobbits simply stared at the empty space, unsure of what to say to each other.

            "Are you okay?"  Frodo asked, not wanting to let Marion fall again.  When she weakly nodded, he reluctantly removed his support.  Though she wobbled, she kept on her feet.  "Sárelle?  Is that your name?"  A pounding began far back in her head, making it nearly impossible for her to answer until it eased a bit.  

            Despite the pain, Marion shook her head.  After another second, she managed to say without any hint of pain in her voice, "No, it's Marion.  I don't know why she called me that."  Frodo shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the silence that followed.  "How long were you listening?"

            Before answering, Frodo took another second to phrase his answer.  "Where are you actually from?"  At this question, the two stepped forward to follow Galadriel further into Lothlorien.  Though shaky on her feet at first, Marion became surer at every step.  The pain was a bit harder to ignore, but if she simply focused on the conversation – slim as it might be – it was easier to overlook the fact that her head felt like it was imploding.  

            "Cranbrook, England, though I'm sure that means nothing to you," Marion replied and Frodo shook his head to confirm her assumption.  

            "And you're not really a hobbit?"

            "As strange as this is going to sound, no.  I'm supposed to have rounded ears, straight hair, and be 5 foot 6.  In other words, human."  With an uncertain flicker of her eyes around their surroundings, she added, "This must be really weird for you."

            With a shrug, Frodo followed Marion's gaze around the forest around them.  "It must be just as queer, if not queerer for you."

            Returning her gaze to Frodo, Marion nodded.  "You have no idea.  You're…you're supposed to just be a figment of my imagination.  For chrissakes, there's a Lord of the Rings movie coming out in a few months."  She stopped her small rant and smiled apologetically.  "Sorry.  You have no idea what I'm talking about.  I just…don't know what I'm doing here.  One moment I was walking through a forest at home and now, I'm here in the middle of a fantasy novel, feeling…"  Pausing, she wondered how this ring of hers actually worked.  Did Frodo feel any of her emotions?  Or was it simply one sided?  "Do you feel anything?"

            "What do you mean?"  Frodo lowered his eyebrows, quizzically.  

            "Well…I…to put this simply, I feel what you're feeling.  Do you feel anything about me?"

"You feel what I'm feeling?"  Frodo questioned, shaken. "What do you feel?"

"Grief, loss, mourning," Marion said softly.  "I felt that even before I came here.  I just didn't know that it was you."  Any remark Frodo would have made was lost when Galadriel swept back into view.  Quickly and decisively, she gripped Marion's shoulders and steered her away from Frodo.  She simply waved Frodo off from following them, though gave no explanation of where she was to taking her.

"It would be best for you not to mention anything to your company, Frodo Baggins," Galadriel warned before moving Marion up a flight of stairs and away from him.

* * *

            "What happened to me?"  Marion asked, clutching a hand to her still throbbing skull.  She had somehow managed to talk to Frodo without revealing the immense pain she was feeling, but she didn't need to do that anymore.  An elvish woman bustled around the room, behind her.  Whatever the woman was doing to make all the noise was lost to Marion, who decided to simply focus on Galadriel in front of her.  

            "The ring has been activated to its fullest potential," Galadriel answered.  "Before, you could feel Frodo's very strong and raw emotions, but now you will be able to feel them all – strong and weak alike.  I am sure this initial pain will fade slowly, but this change will also make it impossible for you to leave his side."

            "And that was necessary because…"  Marion frowned as the elf started taking measurements of Marion for different clothes.  

            "When you made up your mind to join the Fellowship, it was necessary for you to stick to that decision."

            "Join the Fellowship??"  Marion cried.  "I never said I would join the Fellowship!  In fact, I remember quite clearly telling you that I _couldn't do just that!"_

            "No, you said that you would like to help but did not think that you could.  I know that you can, so I sealed that fate for you.  Frodo will need you in the upcoming journey."

            "The Fellowship doesn't even work!  It breaks up right before Frodo goes off to Mordor with Sam!  So you just made it so that I have to go into Mordor with those two?"  She stopped herself; all the yelling was making her vision swim.  More calmly, she continued, "Well, maybe I just won't go with them.  I can bear with feeling his emotions without him here."

            "Impossible," Galadriel shook her head, the movement bringing a faint chime of jewelry to Marion's ears.  "If you put enough distance between Frodo and yourself, you would feel extreme physical pain.  The water from my mirror, when it touched your ring, tightened the already existing bond between you and Frodo.  It substantiated what was already there on the emotional plane, into the physical one."

            "Wait…so if I leave Frodo, I'm going to feel physical pain?  And what about him?"

            "Since he is not the one wearing the ring, he will probably only feel an ache."

            "Oh great.  So if we get separated, I feel extreme pain and he just feels a tiny ache," Marion scowled.  It was not fair in any reckoning of the word.

            "He has a much greater burden to carry than mere physical pain," Galadriel reprimanded, her eyes flashing with a strange sort of anger.  The way Galadriel chastised her made Marion's cheeks flush in embarrassment.  Galadriel was right.  Frodo definitely ended up with the short end of the stick in the whole Fellowship.  Did she really want to add to the pain that he was already feeling?  Not in the least.  She was here to actually take away from that pain, wasn't she?  Now that she was a part of the Fellowship – by choice or not, she was part of it now – she had to start acting her role.

            It seemed that Galadriel noticed the change in Marion, for she nodded to her with a small and secretive smile.  "You say that you know all that happens to the Fellowship…"

            "Not everything," Marion corrected.  "All I know is that it breaks up and Frodo goes off with Sam.  I don't know what happens to the rest of them, the first book doesn't cover that."

            "No matter," Galadriel waved off Marion's correction.  "For now the future has been changed.  Your Tolkien came to a future when you were not born and therefore could not come to help the ringbearer.  Now you are here.  The repercussions of your arrival make everything you read about this journey simply a guess.  This means that there are many things that you can still change."

            "Change?"  Marion blinked, unsure of what her mystery speech was about.  "What would I want to change?"  But Galadriel was not listening to her.

* * *

            Frodo sat surrounded by his friends, who were simply giving him no rest about Marion.  They now knew her name, and that he had sneaked down to Galadriel's Mirror to figure out what she was doing there, but he refused to give them any other information.  Sam was giving him sulky looks about leaving him behind through the whole ordeal, while Merry and Pippin were congratulating him on such a good job of tricking an elf.  He had his doubts about tricking Galadriel.  She seemed to have expected him to follow and listen to what the two were talking about.  

            From farther away, Legolas was giving him strange looks that he could not decipher.  The elf confused him.  He was never sure what Legolas was thinking behind those observant eyes of his.  So when his eyes flickered away from Frodo and stayed away, Frodo followed the elf's gaze to see the Lady Galadriel walking toward the scattered Fellowship with Marion right in front of her.

            The two stopped almost right in front of Frodo and Marion gave him a weak smile in greeting.  The three chattering hobbits beside him immediately fell quiet and the rest of his company quickly gathered around them.  There were a few moments of complete silence before Galadriel spoke commandingly.

            "This is Marion," Galadriel put her hands on the lady hobbit's shoulders, almost reassuringly.  The frightened gaze that Marion fixed Frodo with rooted him to the spot.  For a second, he felt as if he couldn't breathe.  He was so frozen in the moment that he didn't realize the Fellowship nearly explode with questions for the Lady.  It took Gimli's indignant roar to throw him back into the scene.

            "Part of the Fellowship?!"  Gimli roared.  "Impossible!  What use is she to us?"

            "You can't expect us to take her with us into the heart of Mordor!  She'll be killed before the gates!"  Boromir cried.

            "Does she know any weapon skills or hunting techniques?"  Aragorn asked, more calmly, quieting his comrades.  Galadriel smiled and simply bent her head and kept her eyes on Marion's curly head.

            Nervously, Marion answered for herself.  "I…I don't know how to use any weapons, beyond a bit of fencing."  A pause.  "But I learn quickly," she added as she tried to better her situation.

            "This group will be overrun with little ones," Boromir threw his hands up.

            "I am _not a little one," Marion declared loudly.  "I am supposed to be a human, in Cranbrook, England, only reading about this Fellowship.  But I'm not and I can't change that until the One Ring is destroyed.  That means I'm coming along.  You allowed Merry, Sam, and Pippin to accompany with the group, even though they had no real weapon's skills since they were so close to Frodo.  Why is it so different for me?  Because I'm a girl?  Because I wasn't at The Council at Rivendell?"  Now quite aware that the entire Fellowship was staring at her, barely keeping their mouths from gaping open, Marion stopped.  Frodo remembered her saying that she had read all about their adventure so far.  Only now when she listed off knowledge that was supposedly known only to them did that fact hit him._

            "How does she know all of these things?"  Boromir was the first to recover.

            "A long story, which she can tell you herself," Galadriel replied.  "She's a part of your Fellowship now.  Make her feel welcome."

* * *

            "I don't like this," Sam muttered, eyes shifting to where Marion sat further away.  "I don't trust her."

            The Fellowship were tightly packed together on the far side of their camp, as they had been for the past hour, discussing the issue that was Marion.  Once Galadriel had declared Marion part of the Fellowship, Frodo had revealed all that he had heard and seen while spying.  The idea of her accompanying them into Mordor was not one that the entire Fellowship thought well of. 

            "Why not, Sam?"  Frodo inquired.  The hour discussing had given him enough time to figure out all his feelings on the matter.  If what Galadriel had said was right, the two of them were bonded by Marion's ring (though he'd 'forgotten' to mention this to the group as of yet).  That meant whatever hurt him, hurt her as well; which was enough of a reason to trust her, thought Frodo. 

            "She's not one of us," he replied, focusing past Frodo to where Marion was curled up away from them.  "You were the one who heard what the Lady said: she's not even a real hobbit!"

            "Lady Galadriel didn't say that," Frodo corrected.  "Marion did."

            "Straight from her own mouth," Sam nodded satisfactorily.  "It ain't natural."

            "No, it's not.  It was done through magic.  She doesn't want to be a hobbit."

            "Suspicious in itself, if you ask me," Sam sniffed.  

            Now was the time to tell the group about Marion's own ring of magic, Frodo decided.  It was no use keeping it from them forever.  Maybe this way, they would finally accept that no, she was not going to betray them, nor was she going to leave them in the middle of a battle, nor was she a spy from Mordor. 

            "If anything's suspicious, it's why she's here.  Neither Marion nor Galadriel said anything about how she got here, did she?"  Merry observed.  It was one of the few times the hobbit had spoken throughout the entire meeting.  

            "Actually…" Frodo began and launched into the story about Marion's ring.  He finally finished and there was silence among his friends.  No one was quite sure what to say.  Frodo was no longer the only ringbearer.  Finally, Merry commented,

            "She just looks so lonely."

            "Not so lonely any more," Pippin pointed behind Merry and Frodo to where Marion sat talking with Legolas.  No one in the group had noticed him leave the group.   

            Without commenting further, Merry sped over to the two, sliding to a stop right at Marion's side.  The quick motion startled Marion, but awakened a smile in Legolas.  Pippin was quick to follow. 

* * *

Marion leaned her head against the trunk of a tree at the far end of the Fellowship's encampment.  Knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs, she watched the Fellowship huddle farther away and talk in not-so-low voices about her. 

            It had been a long day – night, actually.  The throbbing in the back of her head had begun to ebb away, just as Galadriel told her it would.  Replacing it was a fear lodged in her stomach.  She was going into Mordor.  Though she had been told by friends who had read the story entirely through that Frodo and Sam and the rest of the Fellowship made it out alive, there was no such surety for herself. 

            The words 'Suspicious' and 'Marion' drifted over to her, though she couldn't place who it had come from.  Not the deep voice of Aragorn or Boromir, nor the booming voice of Gimli, nor was it silky like Legolas'.  That meant it had to be one of the hobbits.    

            With a sigh, she opened eyes she had not known she closed and recognized that someone was standing over her.  Turning her head a bit to the side, she saw Legolas towering above her.  Realizing how unnerving it must be for Marion, he sat down next to her silently.  Peering around him, she noticed that the meeting caused by the uproar of her joining the group still was underway, and still the elf was now in front of her.

            "So, you're the little one to join us," Legolas started.

            "Well, I'm the one who's supposed to go with you," Marion answered a bit shyly.  She remembered watching the movie trailers of the new movie coming out and gossiping to her friends how hot she thought Legolas was.  Now in front of her was an immortal being she could not, with any piece of mind, call hot.  Instead, she could only describe him as beautiful and majestic.  

            "You understand what you will be going through by joining us?"

            With a small smile, Marion nodded.  "I read about it, so I know most of what I'm getting myself into."  Shrugging, she sat forward.  "Don't think that I'm an unwilling soldier, but I didn't have much of a choice to come or not."  When Legolas simply gave her a questioning look, she continued.  "Look, I don't want you to tell Frodo this, but if I left his side, I'd be in a lot of pain.  I can feel any emotion that he feels."

            "That is certainly an interesting trick," he commented without emotion.

            "It's no trick, that would be the magic of your Elven Queen," Marion tried not sound as bitter as she felt.  She raised her hand so that he could see the ring on her finger.  "This ring bound me and Frodo together.  The only thing that will separate us is the destruction of the One Ring.  I can't go home until that's done.  So, here I am."

            "Ah, Sárelle, you have such a burden to bear."

            At this, Marion frowned and answered softly, "Not as big as Frodo's."

            "None of us have a burden such as that to carry," Legolas agreed with a slight nod of his head.  "But yours is still far greater than simply following Frodo into Mordor."

            At that, Marion shrugged.  All she had to do was keep herself alive, try not to change the world too much, and keep Frodo happy throughout the entire ordeal.  Yeah, that would be easy.  Sighing, the current topic did nothing to lighten her mood.

            "Why did you call me Sárelle?"  Marion changed the subject.

            "That is your name in our language.  I find it more pleasing than Marion; it sounds too much like Mordor."

            "My name does _not_ sound like Mordor!"  Marion cried, but smiled faintly.

            Skidding to sudden stop right next to Marion, Merry sat down quickly.  Right behind him, Pippin stopped just before running into Marion and Merry.  Marion started in surprise, but Legolas merely smiled at the two hobbits.  Pippin, now more balanced, sat down more casually between Merry and Legolas.  The two hobbits were quite adorable, in Marion's eyes.  Much less…mystical and much more refreshingly less serious.  With a strange sort of formality, Merry caught Marion's eye and put his thumb against his chest.

            "Meriadoc Brandybuck."

            "Peregrin Took," Pippin smiled.

            There was a short silence of the three hobbits examining each other up close.  Tolkien had managed to capture those small, almost child-like features effectively in his writing.  And what she'd seen of the movie had done a good job of portraying that, too.  Except the real Pippin (God, that sounded strange to her) had the same blue eyes as Frodo.  It was Sam and Merry who had the deep brown eyes.   Realizing that she should probably finish off the rather formal introductions, Marion finally gave them both a small smile and continued.

            "Marion Young."

            "This here is Legolas," Merry waved a hand in the elf's direction.  Then where the others were still clustered, he pointed to each one of them and stated their name.  "Aragorn ("But sometimes we call him Strider," Pippin cheerfully added), Boromir, Gimli, Samwise Gamgee, and you should already know Frodo Baggins."

            "I knew all this before…though I was a tad bit confused about you hobbits," Marion admitted.  "You didn't have to tell me."

            Shrugging, Merry simply stated, "Well, it's not proper for you to be part of the Fellowship and not be rightly introduced."

            At this, Marion glowed, the sudden lump in her stomach slowly started to dissipate.  "Thank you."

            Unbeknownst to the four gathered under the tree, the rest of the group had slowly started to make their way back to the encampment.  They gathered behind the three sitting in front of Marion.  Sam was throwing her somewhat suspicious glances, but the others seemed less wary of her.  

            "If you truly are to come with us, we shall start your training tomorrow," Boromir said calmly.  Aragorn nodded his head in approval.  

            "I…so…you guys…approve?"  Marion was a bit flabbergasted at their acceptance of her into the group.  She had expected weeks of distrust.  Though Merry, Pippin, and Legolas had already shown her kindness, she wasn't sure if the others would follow in the same way.

            "If the Lady Galadriel says that you are to be trusted, that is word enough for me," Gimli replied in his gruff voice.

            Obviously pleased with his persuasion and story-telling skills, Frodo sat down beside Marion with a very lovely smile on his face.  Narrowing in on him, all Marion could do was smile back.  


	5. You'll complete me, right?

**A/N:  Sorry it took me so long to come out with another chapter.  There's this thing called a life and classes which pounced upon me with a vengeance.  Once I can fend them off, I'm sure chapters will come with more frequency.  Any ways, like I updated in the first chapter, I'm not exactly sure what the future of this story is.  I do love the dream sequence in this chapter, though.  I had a lot of fun with it.  Well, enjoy!  :)**

Also, I would like to make it a point that this is actually NOT an author fic.  That's right…Marion Young is not actually me!  She has a few of my characteristics, and a few of my friends, but she's not actually me.  I thought that I should mention this for later reference.  That's it this time, I swear!  Happy reading!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            "Tell me about Gandalf," Marion whispered to Frodo.  They were both lying on their stomachs, faces perched on the backs of their hands and so close to each other that their noses were almost touching.  The rest of the Fellowship was snoring around them, and for that Marion couldn't blame them – most of them had drunken so much wine and ale that they would surely have hangovers the next morning.  And despite the long day she herself had had, she found herself talking with Frodo in what had to be the early hours of the morning.  Even though it had been tiring, she looked back upon her first day among the Fellowship – her Fellowship – with a smile.

            Around dawn, Boromir, true to his word, had tried to rouse Marion from her sleep for sword training.  At first he only received incoherent mumbling since Marion had a curious sleeping habit of curling in a ball and pulling the blankets up to her nose.  After a few more shakes, she rolled over and shot a, "Sod off." at him.  A more violent shake rewarded him with a, "Bloody hell." and she threw back her covers glaring at him.  "This is not a good way to start off my first day in the Fellowship," she had commented, moodily.

            "It will be a very short membership if you get yourself killed by an orc," Boromir answered and stalked off to let Marion ready herself.

            Unused to hygiene habits – or lack thereof, she grumbled – of Middle Earth, she complained about not having a toothbrush, or any other brush for that matter and pulled her curly hair back with an leather elvish contraption that wove itself around her hair and kept it in place.  That took her awhile since she was not used to moving her fingers in such ways.  Whenever the weaving failed, a small string of cusses flew from her mouth that made Sam give her startled and unapproving glances.  Finally she deemed herself as ready as she would ever be at such an Ungodly Hour (which she called every hour until about lunchtime) and practicing began.  

            Boromir had decided that she was to start out on the basics that day: where to put her feet, how to properly hold a sword (which was on loan to her from Pippin), and how to keep herself balanced.  Rather indignant about the entire process ever since Boromir had said flat out that everything she had ever learned about swordplay was wrong, Marion had a small frown on her face for most of the morning.  Pippin and Merry brightened her day after lunch by joining her and making Boromir lighten up.  Throughout the day, Aragorn would drop by once in awhile and throw out pointers wherever helpful.  Sam had dragged Frodo out of eyesight for most of the morning and Legolas and Gimli were wandering about Lothlorien.

            By the time Lothlorien had started to glow from the moonlight, all of the Fellowship had gathered around Boromir and Marion.  Once in awhile, Merry would call out encouragement to her (who was by this time dead tired and determined to smack Boromir in the face with the flat of her sword the next time he said, "Good, now do it again").  Finally, Boromir called the day over with an encouraging, "Finally you are at the point where you can actually learn something."

            After that, all Marion wanted to do was fling herself onto her blankets and sleep for days, but everyone else had better plans.  Apparently, while Gimli and Legolas had been exploring, they had gathered baskets of food for a large sized dinner to welcome Marion into the Fellowship.  Perking up at the idea of a feast, Marion gladly sat down in between Frodo and Pippin and ate with flourish.  

            The food was delicious, especially so to Marion, who had been famished from practicing so long.  By the end of the meal, she had horrified the hobbits by informing them that she hated mushrooms.  She was immediately forgiven, though, when she offered her share to anyone else who might have wanted them.  Pippin and Merry, having had a bit too much to drink, immediately got into a drunken wrestling match over the last mushroom and were pulled apart by the still sober Sam.  Trying to conceal their giggles, Frodo and Marion simply turned to Aragorn and Boromir, who were talking about a White City.  The wrestling match marked the end of the feast, for Pippin and Merry immediately dropped to sleep on their blankets after Merry had quickly devoured the mushroom while Pippin was distracted by Sam.  The rest slowly made their way to bed; Aragorn and Boromir a bit tipsy, Gimli seemingly untouched by the enormous amounts of ale he had, and sober Sam in between the other loudly snoring hobbits.   Legolas simply wandered off on his own – apparently elves didn't sleep or get drunk.  That left Frodo and Marion alone to talk.  

Frodo had started off with some of his tales about Bilbo and the Shire (some very interesting ones about the pranks Pippin and Merry played on someone called Lobelia).  Once in awhile, Marion would talk about Cranbrook and her friends (a few of the interesting stories about friends who could probably tell all of Frodo the names of all his cousins and five generations of his ancestors).  

Somewhere in between one of Bilbo's birthday party and Marion's adventures in London, Frodo had somehow convinced her to help him finish off the rest of the wine, even though she had staunchly refused any at supper.  

            "I only just started going to the pubs," she had replied then, pushing the wine flask away from her.  "I'd get sloshed before you could refill my glass."

            "The pubs?  Sloshed?"  Pippin had asked.

            "The pubs are kinda like taverns that you can't go to until you turn eighteen.  Sloshed is very drunk."

            "You just turned eighteen?"  Frodo asked incredulously.

            "Yeah…what's so startling?"

            "You're not even in your tweens!"  Merry exclaimed.

            "You see, young one," Aragorn explained, who was sitting opposite from her.  "To the hobbits, you're not even out of childhood, even though in as a human you were an adult."

            So, there she was, early in the morning, on her fourth glass of the fragrant wine, her head feeling a bit light on her shoulders.  Frodo refilled his glass before answering Marion's question.

            "Shouldn't you already know about Gandalf?"  Frodo asked. 

            "I read about him," Marion replied.  "But that's not the same as knowing him."

            A silence followed and Frodo's eyes remained fixated on the wine, mirror smooth in his glass.  It didn't take the sharp stab of pain in the back of her mind to tell Marion that her question had probably awoken memories Frodo would rather leave forgotten. "It's okay, Frodo." Marion quelled an urge to wrap him in a hug.  "We don't have to talk about it."

            "What do you miss most about your home?"  Frodo finally broke his eye contact with his wine and took a deep drink of it.  

            "Right now?  Showers," Marion giggled.  Despite how much she missed Cranbrook, it was easier to laugh about it than focus on the pain right below the surface of calm she had built around herself.  Also, she wanted to take Frodo's mind off of his own loss (a double-sided purpose, for it was easier to forget about her pain when his wasn't throbbing at the back of her skull, too).  Seeing the corners of his mouth curve up, she continued.  "Beds, computers, rock music – I would blast The Pogues until it rattled through the entire house.  I miss that.  It drove my family crazy."

            "Tell me about them," Frodo asked.  Marion took a gulp of her wine; this had been what she had been avoiding throughout the conversation.  She missed her family much more than anything else in Cranbrook.  Fleetingly, she wondered if they were worried about her yet.  Clutching the glass, she imagined her mother's face white with worry, her father pacing the floors, and her brother locked in his room, reading a book.  This was a subject that would be hard to fake happiness about.  

            "Let's see…" Marion began around the lump in her throat.  She took another swig of wine, and that managed to wash a bit of the pain away.  It also made her thoughts harder to form.  Words were simply swimming around in her brain in no logical order.  "There's my mum, dad, and little brother.  Mum works at home, and dad's a lawyer.  My brother's five years younger than me and simply loves high tech gadgets.  We can't afford a lot of them, but dad loves to spoil him at Christmas.  Dad's the one I go to if I want something, but mum's the one I go to if I'm in trouble," she paused, turning her eyes to the branches above her.  The ache overwhelmed her and she simply couldn't ignore it.

            Frodo's hand ran over her head, which startled her.  Staring intently into the branches, willing the sadness in her chest to fade away, she hadn't even seen him.  For a moment, the wine and touch made the world tilt a bit.  She felt herself blush against her will.  This was not natural.  The wine was rushing to her head – she had no tolerance for alcohol.

            "I'm rapidly approaching very drunk," Marion whispered, trying to regain some sort of composure.  Frodo pulled back his hand and shifted positions, slowly bringing himself to sitting.  As he leaned forward to rock up onto his feet, the Ring on its chain around his neck tumbled out from underneath his shirt and clinked against his wine glass.  The sound echoed impossibly around them and made both Marion and Frodo freeze.  Instinctively, Frodo's hand flew to the Ring and he clasped it in his hand, bringing it protectively close to his chest.  

            Curiously, Marion watched Frodo's reaction, noting the change in his expression from open to guardedly closed.  He paused, his eyes gradually rising from his now clenched fist to Marion.  Practically yanking the chain from his neck, he slid over to her and presented it to her in his open palm.  Her gaze flickered from his face to the ring and back again.

            "Is that it?"  She asked, lamely, knowing exactly what it was.  Frodo nodded.

            "The Ring," he answered ominously.  "Do you hear it?"  His voice was hushed, face set and serious.  

The question puzzled Marion.  "Hear what?"  All that she could hear were snores and the creaking of wind lazily rustling the leaves far above them.  She was sure he meant something to do with the ring, but what could you hear from a ring?  Perhaps he was even more drunk than she was.

"The whispering…" Frodo was a bit baffled.  "Don't you hear it calling your name?"

Gazing at the ring, she tried to heighten her sense of hearing to any whispering that might be calling her name.  The oddness of the situation threw her brain back into semi-sober mode and she was able to shake her head without the rest of the world mimicking the movement.  "I don't hear a thing."

* * *

            Marion watched as the leaves danced with each other despite their confinement to their branches.  A bit farther off, she could hear Frodo shifting under his blankets as he tried to drift off to sleep.  Even though she wanted to do the same, her mind simply would not rest.  Lying on her back, she brought her right hand up until it hovered right in front of her face.  The silver ring on her finger gathered the luminescence of Lothlorien around it making it glow.  This was the cause of her problems.  The incident with Frodo and the Ring had sobered her up enough so that it was easier to think about her predicament. 

            The blush returned faintly to her cheeks when she remembered Frodo's fingers through her hair.  That was not natural.  Why was she feeling that way?  The logical answer was the wine. But she remembered the smile he had given her the day before and how she couldn't help but smile back.  There had been no alcohol in her system then.  So, what was this?  This uncontrollable feeling that scared her?  She didn't believe in love at first sight, but she knew the feeling in the pit of her stomach.  And the lump that jumped into her throat when she thought of that touch.

            Throwing her hand down with a sigh, Marion now glared at the branches.  What right did anyone have to drag her into this?  To mess with her life?  To change her forever?  She knew for a fact she'd never be able to read a novel the same way again.  Probably would never buy rings – and maybe even other types of jewelry – again.  Sure, it was probably the most exciting thing that would ever happen to her in her entire life.  But, exciting wasn't always good.  What was that curse she'd heard?  "May your life always be interesting"?  Yeah, that was it.  Well, this was certainly interesting.  She wondered if someone had cursed her earlier in her childhood.

            Then she calmed herself.  Exciting actually _could be good.  Everything was what she made it out to be, right?  If she tried to make the best out of a situation, it would turn out alright.  If she only thought of the bad things, it would most likely end disastrous.  Of course, she was best at the latter type of thinking.  Which inevitably led her to many disastrous endings.  Shivering, she shifted._

            "Pssssst."  She heard close to her ear.  Starting, she sat upright so fast that the world did a dance before her eyes.  Closing her eyes, she waited a few seconds before opening them, and found the world right again.  Lying on his stomach, head right where her ear used to be, was Merry.  He must have crawled on his stomach to have crept so close without her detecting him.

            "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Merry, you scared the bejesus out of me," Marion clutched her hand over her heart.  "You're supposed to be snoring."

            "I heard you and Frodo talking."  Merry sat up and leaned back on his legs, so that he his feet were underneath him.  Unwinding, Marion, moved a bit closer and sat down cross-legged beside him.

            "What did you hear?"  

            "Now you have to understand that I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, but I was woken up by some chiming sound.  I was about to drop back off to sleep, but then I heard Frodo say something about the Ring.  And…do you really hear nothing?"

            "Not a whisper," Marion replied.

            At this, Merry frowned.  "Not a whisper," he repeated.

            "Why?  You're not saying you hear something, are you?"  Marion asked incredulously.  When she read the book, the only ones who had seemed unaffected by the Ring of Power were the hobbits.  The stead and true friends of Frodo who never wavered in their devotion.

            "Right at the beginning of the Quest, right after we set off from Rivendell," Merry began quietly.  "I heard something whispering my name.  It offered me so many things, but none of it really rang true.  Though it all sounded wonderful…" he paused momentarily before continuing, seemingly horrified that he'd said such a thing.  "What I really wanted was to be back safe in the Shire.  What good would that do me if the Ring was still out there?  Every once in awhile, it still calls my name, but I try to pay it no mind."  He frowned, his downcast eyes fixed on Marion's knees.

            "You're not weak, Merry, or unfaithful to Frodo" Marion comforted, trying to make her voice reassuring.  "The only reason I don't hear it calling is because all I want in this world is its destruction so I can go home.  It can't very well offer me that, now can it?"  She smiled.

            "I suppose not."  He weakly tried to return her smile, but yawned instead.  "You know," he said in an older brother tone as he slid back to his blankets, "you should get some sleep.  Tomorrow'll come soon and you have a lot to learn."  Marion nodded as Merry climbed back into his blankets.  "Hey, Marion…" she turned back to face Merry again.  "I'm glad you don't hear anything."  He closed his eyes and immediately fell back asleep.  

Sighing again, Marion stood up to get some water so she wouldn't have a severe hang over in the morning.

* * *

            Eyes squeezed shut, Sam waited until he heard Marion settle down for the third time that night.  Slowly he turned and slit his eye open just enough to blurrily see Marion lie down on her blankets and curl up.  Fully opening one eye and then another, he waited a few more moments before he sat up.  Unlike Merry, he had been awake all night.  He had heard all of the conversations between both Marion and Frodo and Marion and Merry.

            He was glad he'd over heard her talk with Merry.  He thought he was the only hobbit who had heard the ring's tormenting call.  Now, he knew that the only one free of it was Marion.  And that didn't endear her to him any more.  Galadriel's word gave her a certain amount of respect – no open hostility, but the way she ensnared Mr. Frodo was all too like some sort of spell.  But, then again, not hearing the Ring was also a sign of trustworthiness.

            Standing up, he crept over to Marion's curled up body underneath the blankets.  While she was sleeping she didn't seem to be any sort of evil witch. But that didn't mean anything about her waking self.  Silently, he moved farther off to get a drink.

            "What are you playing at, Galadriel?" a voice insisted.  "You will get that girl killed."  Another voice responded in elvish.  The first voice merely answered in Common Speech, "If we are to speak about your plots, it will be in a tongue that the Fellowship you seem so keen to meddle in will understand.  Far be it from me to keep information from them that they should have a right to hear."

            Drawn to what seemed to be a dispute, Sam crawled underneath some growth around a tree and found Celeborn and Galadriel discussing. "You shouldn't be doin' this, Samwise Gamgee," Sam mumbled to himself.  "This is a sure way to get yourself in trouble."  But he was interested in the conversation and by what Celeborn said, he was doing the Fellowship a good turn.  If they were to speak in Common Speech so that anyone happening by could hear it, then he almost had a right to listen in.  Galadriel sat calmly on a white wooden chair, while Celeborn looked like he would feel more comfortable pacing, but simply stood, staring down at Galadriel.

            "I am not playing at anything.  She will be fine," Galadriel finally replied in the Common Tongue.

            "Fine?  We agreed on a boy, so that he could defend himself.  The Fellowship wouldn't be as opposed to a boy joining the group.  We even found the right one, he knew all about Middle Earth as well as the quest."

            "It is in her best interest to not know what is to happen later on.  Everything has changed now.  One who is familiar with the old tale would only be led astray.  Besides, the situation was complicated."

            "You never said anything of this.  You simply informed me that we had a bearer, not that it was someone different.  I continued to think it was that boy until only a few days ago.  What was his name?  Erunion?"

            "Jonathan," she replied piercingly in Common Speech, "yes."

            Celeborn's mouth formed a tight line as if he were barely biting back a harsh comment.  Instead of replying right away, he sat down beside Galadriel. The silence between the two elves was severe, as if neither would satisfy the other by breaking it.  Sam, uncomfortable with the situation, started to back out of his hiding place and return to the others. 

            "She is weak, Galadriel." Sam heard Celeborn comment as he was retreating.  "You saw her scars yourself while the girl was unconscious.  This quest will be her unmaking.  It will tear her apart."

            "She is not weak, Celeborn," Galadriel replied fiercely.  "You might have said the same for the Ringbearer before he started out."  At this, Sam froze.  He had an urge to tell the Lady Galadriel exactly where she was wrong about Mr. Frodo.  Knowing the idea was not in his best interest, he simply stood where he was to see if she would realize her error.  "That Ring would destroy him.  I just realized it now, but no boy could pull him back from cliff he dangles over.  Sárelle can, though.  They are both reacting to it."

"The after-effects of the bond," Celeborn dismissed the information.  "That is exactly what I am worried about, Galadriel.  She is not stable.  That bond could warp her.  Is one hobbit worth another innocent's life?"

 "It was not only for Frodo that I decided on her after I could not obtain Erunion." Galadriel shook her head.  "If she struggles, he will help her.  When he falters, she will catch him.  Not only will the ring make sure of that…but I feel that it is in both of their natures.  She needs him as much as he needs her.  The two are very alike in some ways."

"But the differences…"

"Are no matter," Galadriel silenced him.  "I would be more worried about the rest of the Fellowship."  Sam decided that this is where he would make his exit.  Galadriel's voice faded as he crept back to the Fellowship, forgetting all about his drink.  He sat down on his blankets and stared at Marion and Frodo, his eyes moving from one to the other.

_"She is weak, Galdriel…You saw her scars yourself…It will tear her apart."_

'So,' Sam thought. 'She's just hurtin'.  Poor girl.  How'd I miss it before?  Of course she'd become attached to Mr. Frodo…him being the ringbearer and so brave and all.'  Sitting there, he watched Marion shift in her sleep, wondering what those scars were that Celeborn had talked about.

* * *

            _The table was impossibly long, with chairs lined all the way down its sides.  Filling the table were teapots and teacups of every shape and size imaginable (and some unimaginable).  There were large teapots, short teapots, ones cast to look like frogs with open mouths, some like little houses, others with three or four spouts, and some with no spout.   Others were painted like the rainbow, some a plain hue; there was even a teapot that looked like the one her mum would bring her when she was sick in bed or studying late.  _

_            Walking slowly down the table, she began to hear nonsensical chatter until she saw two figures sitting at the head of the table.  As she came closer, she recognized the two boys.  Mathias, a tall, skinny boy, wore a ridiculously large hat that should have been around his nose, yet somehow stayed upright on his forehead.  He was wearing outlandishly bright clothes decorated with stripes, plaids, spots, and paisleys.  Sipping intermittently at his teacup, he talked quite animatedly to Jon, who wore a headband with two flopping, furry bunny ears.  With his shorter stature and darker complexion, floppy brownish ears looked nothing but goofy on him.  His clothes were all angora and he wore fluffy gloves.  _

_            As she approached, the two turned and watched her in a hushed silence.  Finally, Mathias spoke._

_            "Why is a warrior like a daffodil?"  _

_            Blinking, she stared at him.  Mathias talking in riddles?  She looked to Jon, hoping he would be more logical, but he simply stared expectantly at her, his bunny ears waving a bit._

_            "A riddle?"  She heard herself reply.  "I love riddles.  Hm.  Why is a warrior like a daffodil?" Sitting down at a seat near Jon, she continued to think over Mathias' question. _

_            "Cup of tea?"  Jon offered her a somewhat large teacup._

_            "Yes, thank you."  She reached out to take the cup to find a mouse face peering out at her, little paws gripping the edges.  Crying out, she pushed herself away from the cup, until her back hit the back of the seat._

_            "Dormouse!"  Mathias scolded, taking the damp rodent out of the tea cup.  Jon offered the cup to her again, but she just shook her head weakly.  He shrugged and downed the rejected tea._

_            "I don't know," She finally answered._

_            "Don't know what?"  Mathias looked up from force feeding the Dormouse slices of butter.  The Dormouse skittered away while his tormentor was distracted.  _

_            "Why is a warrior like a daffodil?"_

_            "I don't know - why is a warrior like a daffodil?"_

_            "You just asked me!"  She huffed._

_            "No I didn't," Mathias denied, seemingly indignant that his pride was being questioned.  He poured an entire jar of sugar in his teacup and proceeded to drink it._

_            "He didn't," Jon agreed, nodding his head, his bunny ears flopping ridiculously.  "Silly girl."  He turned to Mathias.  "Now, where were we?"_

_            "Elvish," Mathias supplied immediately.  He immediately began to sputter off a language that she could only assume was Elvish.  Jon replied in the same sounding language and the conversation went back and forth like that for awhile.  The Dormouse scuttled over to her and sat down, staring at her with intelligent eyes.  She picked up a cube of sugar from a jar, broke it into smaller pieces and fed them to him.  Once the sugar was gone, Dormouse moved away, winding in between strange teapots and cups.  _

_            "Why are you two talking in elvish?"  She asked curiously, peering over a cup of tea she poured for herself.  She checked to make sure it was safe before taking a cautious sip.  The two stared at her as if she was completely ignorant._

_            "We are practicing our Middle Earth languages," Jon replied haughtily, his ears appeared to twitch in agitation._

_            "Why would you do something like that?"_

_            "So that we can read the books in their pure form," Mathias answered.  "They change every time you read them.  If you don't know all the languages, you miss everything."_

_            "It changes every time?"  She asked, dubiously.  "How is that possible?"_

_            "The littlest thing can change an entire world," Jon responded, serious for the first time._

_            "That sounds familiar," She mumbled to herself. Then, louder,"But how can that change a book?"_

_            "You only read it once," Jon said, turning toward her.  "And all you read was the Fellowship of the Ring. You wouldn't understand."_

_"Yes I would!"  She cried._

_"Then what animals did the Queen Berúthiel have?"  Mathias questioned._

_"I don't know that__," she replied indignantly.  _

_"All you know is what happens to Frodo and Sam.  Do you even care about the others?"  Jon accused._

_            "Do you care what happens to them?"  Mathias narrowed in on her, too._

_            "Of course I do!"  She defended herself, suddenly feeling very ashamed.  "You were the one who told me that everyone makes it out okay."  She stared at Mathias, startled.  "When we talked about the book months ago.  You were so mad because you told me something in the future.  You said that everyone makes it out okay."  She paused so that one of them would confirm or deny this comment.  There was silence.  Her voice grew more desperate.  "Everyone makes it out alright…right?"  Still silence.  "Right?"_

_            "The Dormouse is asleep in the tea again," Mathias poked the Dormouse, who was curled up in a teacup half filled with tea.   Jon simply held her gaze, but said nothing, his silly ears stock still.  _

_            Her chair began to shake and she gripped the seat so she wouldn't fall off onto the floor.  Frantically, she kept Jon's gaze, waiting for him to answer her.  "Answer me, Jon, please," she pleaded softly._

* * *

            "Ms. Marion!  Ms. Marion!"  

            Marion reluctantly opened her eyes to find a blurred pair of worried brown ones leaning over her.  Those deep brown eyes

"Answer me, Jon," She mumbled sleepily.

**A/N:  Okay, about Queen Beruthiel…yes, she's a real character from Lord of the Rings.  No, I'm not obsessive, the only reason I know about her is because the person Mathias is based off of _is.  Whenever he would demonstrate this to me or another group of people, he would start talking about Queen Beruthiel and her cats (yes, that's the answer to Mathias' question – the queen had cats.  10 of them, apparently, who scared the living daylights out of the people of Gondor.  Go figure), who no one but a Lord of the Rings buff would know.  So, when I needed a question, I researched who this Queen was and put down.  (For the real Mathias) Ha!  So now by your standards I'm a LoTR buff, too!_**

Also, if you don't know The Pogues, they're a somewhat punkish Irish band.

What's the answer to the riddle?  Well, that, my friends, I can't tell you.  It comes in later in the story.  Just wanted to explain about Queen Beruthiel and her demonic cats.  


End file.
